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"The poor young man!" she said. If you don’t like it, I won’t be mad, I promise. linked image back linked image back MADEMOISELLE AT ARMS Elizabeth Bailey © 2011 by Elizabeth Bailey All rights reserved. ’ She thrust him out of the room and made for the stairs. ” She was silent for a time, with her nose on the pillow, and that brought her to: “What’s the good of pretending? “I love him,” she said aloud to the dim forms of her room, and repeated it, and went on to imagine herself doing acts of tragically dog-like devotion to the biologist, who, for the purposes of the drama, remained entirely unconscious of and indifferent to her proceedings. ’ She sighed. It could only mean one thing—that her foster daughter was both a whore and a murderer! When Sheila confronted her about it, it was five in the morning.
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